


Three Proposals

by masyaf123



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Gay Sex, M/M, Smut, Straight Sex, Swearing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-08-29
Updated: 2013-10-26
Packaged: 2017-12-25 01:06:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/946825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/masyaf123/pseuds/masyaf123
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>EXCERPT: The driver keeps talking. “Sorry, but you look like you’ve seen some awful things.  You look… tired, and it ain’t the kind of tired you can sleep off."<br/>“What does that mean?" <br/>The driver’s gaze flicks to the rear-view mirror, then back to the road. “I dunno… you look like you’re tired of the world.”</p>
<p>Three years ago, beloved boyband One Direction broke up and each member took a side - either Louis or Harry. But now Harry wants to talk to Louis, and Louis agrees - even though he knows it'll end badly for everyone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for starting my story, I hope you like it :) Quick warning - ANGST ANGST ANGSTY ANGST ANGST 
> 
> I know it's short, but the others are longer. Chapter 10 is the longest so far (Well over 1000 words) :D

Louis hasn’t been this indecisive about anything before.  It’s just not in his nature.  He’s used to making snap decisions – applying for _The X-Factor_ , that wonderful first kiss, when he first said “I love you”… but this, this is big.  This is life-changing.

            He’s walking down some cold, grey London street, barely paying attention to where he’s going. Louis doesn’t care, because he’s got a lot to think about.

            Zayn’s done it.  In fact, he made it look easy, which is something he does about everything he attempts.  Then again, he’s the type, isn’t he?  Of course, Louis has an opinion on that, just like everything else, but he’d never voice them.  It’s not even something he’d consider: because Zayn is a good person (the best) and a close friend, and it’s not right to second-guess one of your best friends.  Deep down, Louis hadn’t really thought Zayn and Perrie were ready for such a huge commitment… but, just like everything else in life, only time told.

            But enough of Zayn.  Louis has his own problems, and similar though they may be, they’re his to deal with and no one else’s.  He talked to Zayn about it a while ago, but Zayn didn’t have much advice to offer.  That wasn’t surprising.  Louis had come to the conclusion a while ago that this was his to deal with and no one else’s.

            Louis walks into the first Starbuck’s he found and orders a coffee to go.  While he waits, he shoves one hand into his pocket and pulls out the tiny case.  Louis opens it and looks down at the diamond ring inside.

            Flavia is a nice enough girl; beautiful, funny, clever.  Louis knows he loves her – but does he love her enough?

             

             


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So my update schedule went down the crapper pretty much instantly. Sorry, I guess.

The coffee burns Louis’s tongue, but he doesn’t even notice.  He pockets the ring and heads back out onto the street, his hand clasped tightly around the warm cardboard sleeve wrapped about the coffee.  He’s never liked coffee, but he needs something to get him out of this stupor and force him to make a decision.

            Louis checks his phone.  It’s out of battery – typical.  He steps closer to the road, hails a taxi, and steps in. 

“Where to, kid?” the driver asks.  He’s an overweight, balding middle-aged man with twinkling blue eyes.

               “Camden.” Louis rents a small apartment there – it’s not home, but it’ll do.  He just wants to get out of the autumn cold.

              The driver nods and pulls into the road as he turns down the radio. “So, what brings you to London, kid?”

              Louis glances at him. “It’s personal.”

            The driver shrugs. “Okay, that’s fine.  I know when not to stick my nose in.  But I also know when someone’s got a lot on their plate… anything I can help with?”

            Louis shakes his head but then reconsiders. “How old do you think I am?”

            The driver shrugs again. “At first I’d say maybe twenty, twenty-one?  But your eyes… they make me think you’re older.”

            Louis bites his lip.

            The driver keeps talking. “Sorry, but you look like you’ve seen some awful things.  You look… tired, and it ain’t the kind of tired you can sleep off.”

            “What does that mean?”

            The driver’s gaze flicks to the rear-view mirror, then back to the road. “I dunno… you look like you’re tired of the world.”

            Louis laughs bitterly and mirthlessly. “You can say that again.  You think I’m too young to get married?”

            The driver’s smile fades: he looks deathly serious when he says, “You’re never too young to get married… assuming it’s legal.  And you’re never too old for it, either.”

            Louis’s stare leaves the rear-view mirror and moves to the window, watching the hazy afternoon city fly past.  “You were right, you know.  I have seen things… things I wish I’d never seen.” He sips his coffee again.

            “Is it out of my place to ask what?” the driver prompted.

            Louis glances at him. “Yes.”

            The man rolls his eyes. “Whatever, kid.”

            Louis sips his coffee again.  This guy doesn’t know him, isn’t in a position to judge him – and Louis never could stand his type.

Then again, Louis never had known when to apologise, and that had caused too much harm.  “Sorry,” Louis begins. “It’s just… it still hurts.”

            The driver nods. “That’s fine.  Sorry for being nosy.” 

The taxi pulls over to the pavement. “Here we are,” the driver announces. “That’ll be fourteen-fifty.”

Louis bites back a cutting remark about the frankly exuberant cost and tries to find his wallet. “Oh no…”

The driver turns in his seat. “What’s the trouble, kid?”

“I think I left my wallet in Starbucks.”  He pauses.  “Sorry.”

The driver shrugs. “I’ll let you off just this once, okay?  My wife’s gonna have my head for this, but you seem like a good kid.  I’ll see you around.”

Louis nods his thanks and opens the door to step out, but the driver grabs his arm. “Hey.” There’s another, longer pause. “Whatever’s happened to you, whatever messed you up, it’s in the past. Okay, kid?”

Louis can’t meet the man’s gaze.  He bites his lip. “Thanks. Bye.”

*

Louis opens the door to his flat, chucks his coat on the floor, and plugs his mobile into the charger.  Then he collapses onto the sofa and tries to sleep – as unsuccessfully as he’s done for the past year.

            After almost an hour, Louis gives up and starts fiddling with the broken electric fireplace.  His coffee lies cold and forgotten on the table.  He wishes with all his heart that Flavia was there – that she wasn’t still visiting her parents in Italy.  Louis should have gone with her; it would have been a perfect opportunity to ask her father’s permission to propose, but he hadn’t wanted to impose.

            Louis gives up on the fireplace and checks his phone – three text messages and one missed call. It’s been a long time since Louis got a text, especially from an unknown number like this one.

            His finger hovers over the unlock button.  Then his hand falls to his side and he goes to bed.  

 

      

 

                                         


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please can you start posting ideas for why the band broke up? I just can't think of anything. Remember, it has to be Larry-related.
> 
> Thank you!
> 
> PS. one thing I've noticed is that the more characters I bring into the story, the worse it seems to get.

Louis’s rest is fitful and he wakes up more exhausted than when he fell asleep.  
He wanders shirtless into the living room, checks his phone again – which is still sat on the mantelpiece – and notes three more texts and another missed call. Someone really wants to talk to him, but he doesn’t want to talk to anyone. Not today.  
Louis glances at his watch, which lies beside his phone. Six o’clock. If Flavia were here, he’d be cooking right now. But he isn’t hungry.  
Louis slumps onto the sofa and looks out of the window. He can see the street outside and not much else; rain is coming down hard, pelting against the pane.   
Pane. Payne.  
Louis blinks and immediately shuts that thought down. Liam is one of three people he has no interest in ever meeting again.   
It wasn’t his fault.  
“No,” Louis whispers. “It was my fault.”  
*  
He steps out onto the balcony in the freezing rain, still wearing nothing but his underwear, and struggles to light a cheap cigarette. He can afford higher quality, but that money is just another remnant of a life he’s trying so hard to forget.  
Maybe there’s a reason why you can’t.  
Louis shuts his eyes, lets the wind batter him back and forth as he takes a long drag. A woman walks past his balcony in the street below – she’s not wearing a coat, and her dog is trembling. Louis feels a random powerful urge to call down to her, offer her a warm drink and a drive home… but he bites his tongue.   
As the woman passes under his balcony, though, he realises she’s younger than he is. She can’t be a day over eighteen. She looks up at him, her hair plastered to her face, and smiles understandingly.  
Louis steps away from the railing, takes one last long drag on his cigarette, and drops his stub into a puddle. The image of the taxi driver appears in his mind and he looks down at the girl. “Hey!” he calls. “Come on up. Apartment 31.”  
The girl hesitates, but then looks at her dog – who’s shaking violently now – and jogs toward the building’s glass doors. Louis buzzes her up and after a few minutes she knocks on the door. Louis opens it, offers a fake smile, and says, “Would you like a hot drink?”  
The girl pauses again, but her dog tugs her inside and he shuts the door behind her. “Don’t worry, I won’t kill you,” Louis says reassuringly. “I promise. What do you want – coffee, tea? Or just a ride home?”  
She giggles. “My parents told me to never get in a stranger’s car. Oh, and can I have a cup of tea, please?”  
Louis heads into the kitchenette and glances over his shoulder as he sets the kettle to boil. “I think it’s a little bit late for staying out my car. Please, sit down.” He prepares two steaming mugs of tea and passes one to the girl, who is stroking her dog. “Do you want a towel?”   
“Yes please,” the girl smiles her thanks and when Louis grins back, it’s actually almost believable.  
He brings out two towels – one for her, one for her dog. “What’s your name?”  
“Jessica, but everyone calls me Jess, and this is Mullingar,” she says, gesturing to her Golden Retriever. “He’s named after the place I was born.”  
Mullingar.  
Louis gestures to the couch and Jess gratefully sits down. He can’t get that word out of his head.  
Mullingar, Ireland.  
“Sorry it’s so cold in here,” Louis says, closing the balcony doors. “I guess I just like it that way. And the fireplace has been broken since I moved in.”  
Jess laughs. “It probably just needs a woman’s touch.” She kneels down in front of it and starts poking around. Mullingar nuzzles Louis’s hand and he strokes him reluctantly.   
Mullingar, County Westmeath.  
All of a sudden Louis realises that he’s almost naked. He curses and jogs into the bedroom, throws on an old shirt and tracksuit bottoms, and returns to the living room. “Sorry ‘bout the mess… and the cigarette smell.”  
Jess looks at him. “You know, there’s such a thing as apologising too much.”  
“Sorry,” Louis smirks.  
They both laugh at that; and then the fireplace roars to life. “See?” Jess says. “Just needed a woman’s touch.” Her gaze seems to say, like you.  
Jess sits close to Louis. “Can I repay you in some way?” Her hands gently brush along his leg as she watches him, gauges his reaction.   
Louis shifts in his seat, but doesn’t move away. “Fixing the fireplace is good enough.”  
She leans in and whispers, “I thought you liked the cold.” She sits back and watches him as he paces back and forth. “Hey… aren’t you Louis Tomlinson?”  
Louis stops suddenly and looks away. His surname is the last link he has to that old life, and he only uses it when he has to. “Y-Yeah, I am.”  
“You’re from One Direction!” Those four words cut deeper than any knife, and Louis visibly winces – but Jess doesn’t notice. “I always wondered what happened to you, all five of you, after you broke up. I went on your Take Me Home tour, you know. I went to every gig, every signing…” she kept talking and Louis swore under his breath. She mentioned something about Larry Stylinson and Louis rolled his eyes. Meeting an old fan was bad enough, but did he have to meet one of the psychos? She would probably never leave.  
“You were my favourite, you know,” Jess said, bringing Louis back to reality. “My favourites in order were: you; Harry; Zayn; Liam; and lastly Niall.”  
Louis spun to face her. “What?!” he roared. It was bad enough that he never wanted to hear three of those names again, but people had never liked Niall. He was always the ugliest one, the worst singer, the greediest one, and none of it was true.  
“I said-”  
“I heard what you said, and I’m sick of hearing it! I’m sick of hearing bitches talk about Niall like they know him. Just leave him alone!”  
Jess stood up, her mouth agape. “Did you just call me a bitch?”   
“I think I did.”  
“Come on, Mullingar, we’re leaving.”  
Jess marches out of the door and slams it behind her, leaving the apartment in silence once more. Louis slumps into the sofa with a sigh. He hadn’t been expecting to defend Niall for a long time.  
Louis remembers that it had gotten to a point where Niall actually believed what the so-called “fans” were saying – that he wasn’t pretty-talented-smart-funny. It wasn’t true, of course, but if you hear something enough times you start to believe it.  
Louis feels a sudden urge to contact Niall, find out how he’s doing – but Niall took Harry’s side in the break-up.  
That makes it sound like a relationship.  
“It was,” Louis whispers. What’s happening to him? He’s spent the last three years forgetting that life, and now he can’t stop remembering it. Jess didn’t help, and neither did that taxi driver, but they weren’t the real problem. Maybe it was time to get in touch.  
Louis stands and unplugs his phone. Another text and another missed call.  
He unlocks his phone, checks his texts. The first one reads Hi Lou, it’s Niall.

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah, this doesn't really fit in with the rest of the story because this was originally a Larry oneshot. Then I thought "screw it, no one will read it anyway, might as well make it a story".
> 
> PLEASE leave a kudos/comment (or even both?) and I will KISS YOUR TOES
> 
> Also, if you're interested, updates every Thursday :)


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